


The Next Gay Caps and Their Queen

by Crows_Imagine, theauthorish



Series: Red Stilettos and Handsome Devils [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crows_Imagine/pseuds/Crows_Imagine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: The next gen caps and their partners play truth or dare. What could go wrong?





	The Next Gay Caps and Their Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Enno is an enabler, I am an enabler, and we are the same person apparently. We traded off sections, each of us taking certain characters' POVs, and this was so much fun! Hope you enjoy!

**THE NEXT GAY CAPS + THEIR QUEEN (and their boyfriends)**

 

**TeruSHINY:** yeeeeeeeeeeee you guys excited for later??? 

 

**Shirabooboo:** No, it’s my most dreaded event of the week

 

**FucKyou:** can i not

i shouldn't even be in this damn chat anymore

let me leave fuckin hell

 

**YaHABA** : Come on babe, be positive!

It’ll be fun and I can see Shirabu suffer

 

 **FutaCOOLchi** **(not)** : u kno u love us, puppy-kun

\+ y do u hv that weird emphasis on ur name yahaba

 

**FucKyou:** don’t call me puppy-kun you fuckwad

also i’m pretty sure yahaba picked it up from his filipino friend--

 

**YaHABA:** I don’t know what you’re talking about

Shut your mouth, Ken-chan

 

**FucKyou:** haba means long in filipino

its a goddamn dick joke

 

**TeruSHINY:** guys stop ignoring meeeeeeeeee

 

**YaHABA:** I can’t help it if it’s the truth

 

**FucKyou:** shigeru

ive seen you

no its not true

 

**Shirabooboo:** I answered

 

**TeruSHINY** : YEAH BUT YOU WERE MEANNNNNNNNN

 

**YaHABA:** WHY DID YOU SAY THAT HERE

 

**_FucKyou has gone offline._ **

 

**Shirabooboo:** Are

Are you being for real

I thought you were a college student, but you’re in pre-school

 

**TeruSHINY** : YOURE DOING IT AGAIN. STOP BEING MEAN.

 

**Misa Soup:** Yuuji, I thought you were going to check on the details for tonight?

 

**TeruSHINY** : I WAS TRYING TO.

 

**KamaSUCK_IT:** Ofmg, can you guys not

My phone is going off nonstop and I can’t figure out how to make it stop

 

**Semisweet:** Same. Please just get to the point. I have work you know.

 

**Shirabooboo:** To quote Hamlet, “No.”

 

**Semisweet:** Babe, the sooner I get off from work the sooner I get home. The sooner I get home… you know?

 

**Shirabooboo:** Everyone, get your fucking act together pronto

 

**Semisweet:** Thought so.

 

**FucKyou:** god get a room

 

**Shirabooboo:** We do, it’s rather large. Even has a grand master bathroom.

 

**FucKyou:** i hate you all

 

**YaHABA:** YOU WERE HERE THE WHOLE TIME

 

**FutaCOOLchi (not):** lol aprntly

 

**TeruSHINY** : Why… would you spell apparently that way… my eyesssssss…..

 

**Shirabooboo:** How dare you make me read that with my own two eyes

That goes for Futakuchi and Terushima

 

**KamaSUCK_IT:** Why can’t you all be quiet?

Especially you Kenji, I need to buy you a gag

Be here at 7:30 @ mine and Futakuchi’s apartment

Everyone bring some damn food, I’m not letting you in without free food

Don’t be late and for the love of God, please shut up now!

 

**FutaCOOLchi (not):** oooooooohhhhh a gag? wouldn't you rather  _ i  _ gag  _ you _ ?

 

**FucKyou** : WHY IS THAT THE ONLY MESSAGE YOU TYPE WITH REGULAR SPELLING

god i hate you all

 

**KamaSUCK_IT** : We’re not having this discussion here!!

 

**Misa Soup:** Thank you Kamasaki.  **@En-NO-SHIT-a @Akaashi @Yamameow is a furry @ApplePie** are coming, right?

 

**En-NO-SHIT-a:** Yep! We’ll be there

 

**YaHABA:** You sure replied fast

 

**Akaashi:** We were here the whole time, watching the chat burn

Like usual

 

**YaHABA:** You let me suffer?

 

**Akaashi:** Yep

 

**Yamameow is a furry:** Sorry guys, Kenma and I can’t make it this time :(((  we’re having dinner with my family

 

**FucKyou:** take me with you

 

**ApplePie** : no. have fun kyoutani.

 

**FucKyou:** i hate you all

 

/////

 

Yasushi is tired. The night hasn't even begun, but he’s  _ exhausted _ \-- mostly because he knows that whatever his boyfriend and their myriad friends have planned (or unplanned; these guys are, unfortunately, a rather spontaneous bunch) is going to be chaotic at best.

 

At worst? Disastrous. Possibly dangerous.

 

Probably dangerous.

 

Fuck. 

 

“Why is it at  _ our  _ house again?” he demands of Futakuchi, who’s currently bustling about the kitchen as if he’s being productive (as if, the guy couldn't cook to save his life, and everyone else is bringing the food and drinks anyway).

 

“Because,” Futakuchi answers brightly, sauntering out of the kitchen to drape himself across the back of the sofa so that he can hug Yasushi from behind. Yasushi grunts. “Last time it was at Teru and Misaki’s place, and Enno and Akaashi don't trust us.”

 

“For good fuckin’ reason,” Yasushi grumbles, though he only half-means it. For all that they’re loud and weird and a mess, their friends are fun. Reliable too, when it really comes down to it.

 

Futakuchi snickers, tilting Yasushi’s chin so he can press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Don't be so grumpy, babe, it’ll be fun!”

 

Yasushi only sighs.

 

It's a mere ten minutes later when the doorbell rings, announcing the first arrivals. Yasushi waits a bit to see if Futakuchi will get it, but… of course he doesn't. Just keeps humming in the kitchen as he pours out a line of shots ‘for later.’

 

Yasushi will keep an eye on him, just in case. He pushes himself to his feet and calls out through the door, “You better have fucking food, assholes.”

 

He hears a sharp bark of laughter, followed by a muffled, “You don't even know who it is yet! What if it had been a mailman or something?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Yasushi resists the urge to open the door already. He's gonna stay true to his word, goddammit, and none of these dicks are coming into his home without some sort of dish or beverage. “Did you bring anything or not, Yahaba?”

 

It’s Kyoutani who answers this time. “We brought beer and pizza. Can we come in now?”

 

Yasushi finally flicks the lock open and pulls the door wide, allowing them in. Kyoutani makes some sort of grunt which Yasushi takes as a thank you, and then heads straight into the kitchen, where he plops down their contributions. Yasushi can already hear Futakuchi pestering the poor guy, calling him names and prodding at him the way he does with everyone, but he ignores it. Kyoutani can handle himself, and anyway, Yahaba’s still here and needs entertaining (never let it be said that Yasushi isn't a good fucking host).

 

“Are you absolutely sure you aren't still dating in secret?” he asks, as Yahaba finishes lining up his shoes neatly by the wall, following Yasushi into the living room.

 

Yahaba groans. “Yes. Yes, I'm sure. We’ve all been over this a million times!” He throws up his hands, falling into the couch with a drama that Yasushi could never hope to replicate-- not that he’d want to; Futakuchi is plenty dramatic for both of them. “We’re just friends now. Best friends, but  _ friends _ .”

 

“Okay, okay. No need to get so worked up.” Yasushi had only pointed it out because-- well, they still act like they were a couple. They come to everything together, pitch in for their contributions together, hell, they still even lived together. They bicker and tease and are just as casually affectionate as they always have been… the only difference since when they were really dating a year ago is that they make out a lot less and, presumably, no longer have sex.

 

Yasushi means to ask why they broke up at all, but the doorbell rings again, and Futakuchi calls out, “Coming!” and then turns expectantly to Yasushi.

 

Asshole.

 

Yasushi scowls at him, earning a brilliant, sickly sweet grin in return, and then stands up again to let in the next pair.

 

By the time everyone's complete, the dining table is entirely hidden under an assortment of mostly fast food and cheap alcohol, the only exception being the homecooked onigiri and mulled wine Semi and Shirabu had brought.

 

The people themselves are gathered in the living room, drinks in hand, making light conversation. When Yasushi finally sits down to join them, Futakuchi claps his hands together. “Well, now that Yasushi’s here, we can get playing!”

 

Yasushi squints at his boyfriend. He doesn't remember agreeing to a game. “Playing what?”

 

“Truth or dare,” Shirabu answers easily, shrugging. “Because apparently we’re back in high school now.”

 

Semi knocks Shirabu gently over the head, a fond smile curling at his lips. “Don't pretend, Kenjirou, we all know you love this game.”

 

Shirabu bats Semi’s hand away, but doesn't argue-- ha, if only Yasushi could get Futakuchi to give in that quickly when  _ they _ argued.

 

“So who’s first?” Yahaba asks around a mouthful of pizza (which he’d helped himself to a slice of, despite everyone else's protests that he wait for dinner).

 

Kyoutani holds his hands up as if to ward them off. “Not me. I ain't playing. I’ll just be your ref or someth’n.”

 

“That's fair,” Yasushi comments, settling down on the floor since all the seats are taken-- he ignores Futakuchi’s waggling eyebrows as he pats his own lap; yeah, no, Yasushi is not sitting there. 

 

As Yahaba’s ex, Kyoutani technically shouldn't be here at all (as the man himself has complained repeatedly). The fact that he keeps letting himself get dragged into their shenanigans-- and he’s  _ definitely  _ letting it happen, there's no way a man like Kyoutani could be forced if he really didn't want to do something-- is plenty enough.

 

From where he’s sitting, Terushima whoops. “Yeah! That's perfect-- let’s play then!”

 

Yasushi lets out another sigh, but he doesn't protest. Truth or dare is fairly harmless, so he figures it's better to go along with it now than have them come up with something worse later on.

 

“So,” he starts. “How do we decide who goes--  _ Futakuchi _ , you jerk, quit kicking me!”

 

“It was an accident!” Futakuchi protests, but his lips are twitching, which means that he’s trying not to laugh, and  _ that _ means that it was almost definitely on purpose.

 

Why was he dating this piece of shit again?

 

He glares. “Do you really want to try my patience?”

 

“Ooh, what’ll you do,  _ senpai _ ?” Futakuchi coos, paying Yasushi no mind as he swats at the other’s foot where it's  _ still _ digging into his goddamn back. “Will you  _ punish  _ me?” 

 

Futakuchi’s leaning over Yasushi, getting way too into his personal space for polite company-- and anyway, his smirk is fucking irritating-- so Yasushi shoves his face away with one hand. (It’s definitely not because he’s getting red at the thought Futakuchi-- the bastard-- has planted in his head. Nope.) “We are not doing this right now,” he snaps.

 

Like the mature adult he is, Yasushi’s boyfriend responds by licking his palm.

 

It's even sadder that Yasushi isn't surprised in the slightest.

 

With an irritated growl, Yasushi jumps to his feet to go wash his hands, face scrunched up in disgust. “Why do I put up with you again?” he demands, as he storms into the kitchen and turns the faucet on. “Hell, why do I  _ live  _ with you?”

 

“Sex?” Terushima offers.

 

“It's probably the sex,” Shirabu says. “Why else would anyone put up with this douche?”

 

“That's not nice, Shirabooboo-kun,” Futakuchi responds, putting on a pout. “And anyway, if I'm a douche, so are you. We're pretty alike, after all.”

 

Yasushi finishes drying his hands and rejoins them just in time to catch Shirabu’s sneer. “There is  _ nothing _ about us that is alike.”

 

Yahaba hums. “I mean… you are. A little,” he says. Shirabu whirls on him with a glower, but Yahaba doesn't even flinch. “You’re just saltier and grumpier where Futakuchi is mocking and bratty.”

 

Kyoutani huffs in response to his ex (who is currently, not-very-subtly nudging him with an elbow). Yasushi assumes it's meant to be an agreement.

 

Semi opens his mouth to add his own two cents, but a pinch to his side from Shirabu shuts him up quickly. He retaliates, drawing a hiss from his partner, but otherwise, doesn't try to speak up again.

 

Yasushi reclaims his spot on the floor, shooting Futakuchi a warning glance that goes unacknowledged-- mostly. Once he's comfortable, he feels Futakuchi’s hand rest on his back, rubbing slow and gentle circles into it, and Yasushi accepts the apology with a small sigh.

 

Fucking bastard.

 

Yasushi wouldn't trade him for the world.

 

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

 

Hana settles beside Terushima. She munches on the nice guac and salsa Ennoshita and Akaashi brought, making sure to pick the biggest chips for the best chip-eating experience. Terushima reaches for a chip and she swats away his hand.

 

“Get your own plate,” she says in reply to Terushima’s pouty face.

 

“But you have some right here!” Terushima complains. “It’s so easy for me to just reach and have some as opposed to getting up.”

 

“I got all of this food for reason, because I intend to eat all of it,” Hana says, nodding her chin to the table of food. “Go get a plate. And a napkin!”

 

Terushima sighs, but gets up. He kisses the top of Hana’s head, letting her know he’s not actually annoyed.

 

“Who’s going first?” Kyoutani asks. “We also need to decide how we’re going to go.”

 

“We could go by order of who’s called on,” Ennoshita suggests. He’s leaning against Akaashi’s side, an arm around his shoulders. “Whoever answers is the next person to go. But we first need the starter.”

 

Hana raises her hand. “I can go first,” she volunteers. She’s used to breaking the ice first.

 

“The circle is your oyster,” Terushima says as he sits back down beside Hana. “But you’re the pearl.”

 

“Awww, that was really cheesy babe.” She shakes her head before scanning the circle. Who should she pick first?

 

She settles on one of the guys from her year. “Semi,” Hana decides. “Truth or dare?”

 

Semi didn’t expect to get picked first, judging by his confused blink. “Truth, I suppose. I know you won’t go crazy either way.”

 

“Truth is so boring,” Futakuchi explains, sipping a soda. Hana secretly believes Semi picked a good choice. When the game is just getting started, she would’ve made the same decision.

 

“Truth is the smart way to go,” Semi argues.

 

“Branch out, Eita.”

 

“Not you too, Kenjirou.”

 

Hana uses this time to muse over her question. What to ask… She lights up when she thinks of it. “What is something that no one here knows? That includes Shirabu.”

 

Semi hums, drumming his fingers on the top of his crossed legs. “Well,” he begins uncertainly. “No one here should know this-”

 

“That does follow the requirements of the question, yes,” Futakuchi interrupts.

 

Semi glares at him before he continues. “-But I did acting before I got into volleyball,” he finishes.

 

“Acting?” Ennoshita’s interest is piqued. He’s always looking for actors as an aspiring director.

 

Semi nods. “I was pretty good at it. Then I discovered volleyball.” He shrugs. “You know what happens after that.”

 

“Act out something for us!” Terushima requests, leaning forward. “Please Semi?”

 

“No,” Semi firmly says, his expression matching his tone. “I’m not giving you guys anything to make fun of me with.”

 

“We won’t make fun of you,” Hana insists. “But we’re also not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

 

“Thank you, Hana,” Semi sighs. “You’re one of the only reasonable people here.”

 

Hana chuckles. She’s not one for over the top truth or dares, aiming for the simpler ones. “You’re welcome.”

 

“Hey!” Yahaba protests, pausing in his pizza-eating. “I’m reasonable!” he manages through mouthfuls of food.

 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Hana chides.

 

“He didn’t list you,” Kyoutani points out. “So if you think he wasn’t implying you, that says something about how reasonable you are.” Hana, along with others, chuckle at Yahaba’s indignant face.

 

“I didn’t come here for this treatment,” Yahaba responds. “How dare you, Ken, how  _ dare  _ you?”

 

Kyoutani doesn’t pay him any attention. “Semi, it’s your turn to ask someone truth or dare,” he informs.

 

“Futakuchi, truth or dare?” Semi asks. He bites one of the ongiri he and Shirabu made.

 

“I’ll go your method and see what’s so good about picking truth,” Futakuchi decides.

 

“You’re such a brat,” Kamasaki mutters. Hana chuckles. They’re an interesting dynamic that works. 

 

“I know you are, but what am I?” Futakuchi smirks. Kamasaki gets an irk mark.

 

“The game,” Kyoutani sighs. He rubs his forehead. “Honestly, why do I bother?”

 

Ennoshita pats his arm. “It’s alright, Kyoutani. We understand.”

 

Kyoutani sighs again. “Thank you, fellow reasonable one.”

 

Semi clears his throat to grab everyone’s attention again. “What do you really think about Kamasaki?” he inquires.

 

“I have a feeling I might want to leave the room for this one,” Kamasaki says. Futakuchi elbows him. “Have faith in me, Yasushi.”

 

“Why would I do a thing like that?”

 

Futakuchi gives him an exasperated look. “Just leave the room so I can complete my truth.”

 

Kamasaki uses Futakuchi as leverage to hoist himself off the floor. “Don’t badmouth me too much.”

 

“No promises,” Futakuchi answers. Kama gives him another look over his shoulder as he leaves the living room. “I’ll eat all your sour gummies in the meantime.”

 

“You wouldn’t  _ dare _ ,” Futakuchi shouts, eyes narrowed in his direction.

 

“Try me,” is the reply.

 

“Futakuchi, the game,” Kyoutani reminds him.

 

“Oh yeah.” Futakuchi rests his hands on either side of him, leaning his weight on them. “Well, it’s complicated.”

 

“Naturally,” Yahaba says, finishing his pizza.

 

“In high school, I wasn’t an easy kouhai,” Futakuchi continues, ignoring Yahaba.

 

“You’re not an easy person to handle, kouhai or not,” Ennoshita points out.

 

“Do you guys want me to finish?” Futakuchi complains with a huff. “In high school, I was  _ kind  _ of a brat, I suppose.”

 

Shirabu raises his eyebrows. “You suppose?”

 

“Shut up. I liked riling up my senpai, especially Yasushi. It was fun seeing his reactions and arguing with him.” Futakuchi chuckles to himself. “And one time near the end of my third year, I was really frustrated one time after practice. Spring High was coming up soon and we hadn’t nailed some of our new attacks, my parents were pestering me about what housing plans I was going to for college because my first choice didn’t have any housing, not even for freshmen.” He leans against the back of the couch. “I ran into Yasushi on the way back home. He worked at the candy store at night during his first year,” Futakuchi explains. He runs a hand through his hair. “So he wants to know why I’m so pissed, I explain, and he says he can help me with one of those problems.”

 

“By fucking,” Shirabu nods. “I called it.”

 

Futakuchi rolls his eyes. “No. He said he was transferring to my college after this year ended, meaning he was moving out of Miyagi.”

 

“And he needed a roommate,” Akaashi fills in.

 

“Yeah. So flash forward, we’re living together.” Futakuchi takes a swig of soda. “Yasushi comes home one day, mad as fuck. He had a bad day and he wants to go out and pretty much fight someone. I’m like, ‘Don’t be a dumbass, you’re not getting in a fight. What if you get hurt? I’m not searching for your body, fearing it’s in a ditch somewhere. I need a roommate and you need to stay safe, so no.’ He’s mad, wanting to let off steam.” Futakuchi places his legs together and stretches over them. “Me being the genius I am, come up with an idea.”

 

“Genius?” Yahaba mutters.

 

Futakuchi flips him off, crossing his legs at the ankles. He crosses his arms. “I think, ‘Hey, we both would like a nice lay, right?’ I suggest the idea, Yasushi agrees, we have hot, angry sex- Yasushi is great when he’s rough-”

 

“T-M-I,” Akaashi interrupts.

 

“-Then we talk about how it doesn’t mean anything, we were just fooling around because Yasushi needed to get rid of his energy. Then next time it’s me who’s frustrated. Soon enough we’re fucking a lot, it’s not always rough.” Futakuchi pulls his legs up and rests his folded arms on top. “One time we’re about to have sex when I comment, ‘Since when did we have soft sex like couples?’ and I laugh until I see Yasushi’s bright red face. We stare at each other for a moment and that’s the moment I realized I fell in love with him.” He smiles softly. “I fell in love with my old senpai that I loved to tease and rile up, and he’s the greatest. I really love him.”

 

“Awww,” Hana coos, wrapping her arms around Terushima’s. “That’s so adorable. Isn’t that adorable, Yuuji?”

 

“Oh my god, they were  _ roommates _ ,” Terushima whisper-shouts. Hana shakes her head. She’s not surprised that’s what her boyfriend focused on first.

 

“Who confessed?” Akaashi asks. He leans forward, interested. Hana is the same. She’s never heard of how the two headstrong males got together and she’s quite intrigued.

 

“I did,” Kamasaki calls, holding a plate full of various food as he enters the room again.

 

“With a fucking boombox playing one of my least favorite songs,” Futakuchi snorts. “You dork.”

 

“You said it was sweet,” Kamasaki reminds him, sitting beside him again.

 

“Not the song, it sucked,” Futakuchi remarks. “You don’t have any taste.”

 

“It was the first one I could find!” Kamasaki nudges him. “Don’t act like such a tsundere, Mr. He’s-the-Greatest.”

 

Futakuchi blushes. “You heard that?!”

 

“You weren’t being quiet,” Kamasaki says, biting into a slice of pizza. “Now I know how you feel about me. You were always such a damn sap.”

 

“Am not!” Futakuchi hisses. “Don’t spread lies.”

 

“I’d never,” Kamasaki smirks. He pulls Futakuchi close to his side. “Who’s turn is it now?”

 

“Mine because Semi asked me,” Futakuchi answers. He scans the circle and Hana recognizes a difference in his air. She curiously watches his actions, wondering what mischievous plans he has up his sleeve this time. Clearly he wants the attention off him and his sappiness.

 

“Shirabu,” he settles, smirking widely. “Truth or dare?”

 

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

 

Kenjirou glares at the smug smile on Futakuchi’s face. What an absolute piece of  _ shit _ (not; they were friends… mostly). “Truth,” he says, just because he knows Futakuchi wants to give him some dumb task that’ll bring the attention onto him instead-- Kenjirou doesn't need to make it easy for him. If Futakuchi’s gonna be dumb and cheesy, that's his own problem.

 

But apparently Futakuchi was prepared for that too. “Who was your first wet dream about?”

 

Kenjirou scowls. This is embarrassing to answer, even though he's pretty sure everyone already knows what he's going to say. Futakuchi raises an eyebrow, and with a sigh, Kenjirou replies, “It was Ushijima-san. Second year. Are we done?”

 

At his side, Semi is snickering into his hand. Kenjirou hates him too. What kind of boyfriend just laughs at that? “I fucking knew it, Kenjirou, you were like, obsessed with him.” There’s a pause. “What was it?”

 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Kenjirou snarks. Semi colors a little (of course he does, Kenjirou knows the asshole is just as weak to dirty talk as Kenjirou himself), but otherwise doesn't retort. Kenjirou opens his mouth--

 

“Please,” says Akaashi, tone so deadpan it's practically a goddamn fossil, “We all want to know about it, Shirabu-kun. We don't mind you getting horny with your partner in the middle of our game at all.”

 

Everyone laughs as Kenjirou’s jaw clicks shut.

 

Kenjirou  _ hates _ them  _ all _ .

 

“You know,” Terushima starts, “I didn't expect that?” He blinks-- everyone is staring at him,  Kenjirou included.

 

Kenjirou takes a drink of his beer, licks the moisture from his lips… He sets it down with a thump that punctuates his next statement. “How the fuck.”

 

Yahaba speaks up. “You played them, didn't you Teru? How didn't you notice his weird fixation with his ace?”

 

Misaki looks disappointed by her boyfriend's apparent lack of observational skills, squinting at him from where she's perched in his lap. “Aren't you one of our school’s smartest students?”

 

Terushima flails. “Yeah!!! Don't look so ashamed of me!!! Babe, let me finish!”

 

“Go on.”

 

Kenjirou thinks maybe he doesn't want to know what Terushima’s going to say. He hopes this is one of the times where despite Terushima’s very real claim to the title of genius… he turns out to say something the complete opposite of that.

 

But it appears his luck has run out. “Like, yeah? Shirabu seemed weirdly occupied with Ushiwaka, but like. Like.” His hand gestures vaguely, and Kenjirou thinks maybe he should stop Terushima now. He doesn't know how though, so he's left frozen as the other finally finds the words to say, “He also. Lowkey. Had a weird awareness of everyone on his team???”

 

Kenjirou stares. What? “No I didn't,” he snaps.

 

“You did though. Like.” Terushima doesn't seem to get the  _ fucking hint _ .  _ Stop _ . “Nothing like the freak duo’s Kags, all weird scary prediction and? Precision I guess I don't know, but like. You were always kinda. Ogling. I don't think you realized it?”

 

“I was not.”

 

Semi eyes Kenjirou carefully, as if waiting for him to lash out-- he won't, damn it, it's not like this is true-- then says, “I kind of noticed that. Maybe. Not sure, high school was a while back.”

 

Terushima shrugs. “Maybe I'm wrong--”

 

“You are,” Kenjirou insists.

 

“But like. I know you act like a distinguished gay most of the time??? But you always struck me as a gay-for-everyone disaster that was just good at pretending.”

 

And the most annoying thing about this? Terushima isn't even  _ wrong _ . Kenjirou hates him for it. 

 

In his defense: what else was he supposed to do? They play a sport-- they change in the same rooms, they're all ridiculously fit, they get sweaty and tired and wear shorts that show off their asses and Kenjirou is fucking  _ gay _ . And? Tendou was touchy and always up in Kenjirou’s space, Goshiki was kind of sweet and excitable and earnest, Kawanishi was cool and nice to look at and unflappable-- not to mention his partner in crime-- and--

 

Yamagata was funny in a sarcastic way and weirdly flexible, getting into all sorts of odd positions just to (perfectly) dig a ball so Kenjirou could get it; Reon was caring and reassuring, steady and encouraging, and Ushijima was big and broad and powerful in ways Kenjirou could never hope to be, reliable and honest and--

 

And  _ Semi _ . Fucking hell. Semi was an annoying senpai who was always breathing down his neck, his rival and competition that forced Kenjirou to keep fucking improving, that never let him rest because if he did, Semi was good enough, smart enough, to take his spot on the roster back, and Kenjirou didn't want to let him. And yet.

 

And yet.

 

That tension sent a thrill down his spine, especially when they bickered, got too close and too personal, spoke in voices too low. Kenjirou wasn't blind; Semi was pretty and handsome and his voice??? Heaven-sent. And when he got soft and fond and gentle…

 

Kenjirou was happy they were together now, to say the least.

 

But it would be a cold day in hell before he ever admitted that.

 

The others make some sort of agreement, nodding their heads or vocally confirming Terushima’s assessment. Kenjirou hates all of them (no, he doesn't).

 

Kyoutani, finally doing his fucking job as referee, tells them to get a move on. Kenjirou decides to himself that next time he won't torment him as much… probably. “Terushima,” he says next, because he's still salty, and he wouldn't be Shirabu Kenjirou if he didn't act on his petty impulses. Right now, he needs revenge on the guy who fucking exposed him. “Your turn then. Truth or dare?”

 

Terushima doesn't even hesitate to choose dare. Of course he doesn't. Kenjirou smirks. “Talk dirty to someone in the room.”

 

Normally, Terushima is up for that, even without a dare. They all know this, which explains the puzzled frown Semi is shooting his way.

 

But Kenjirou knows that Terushima can't do it when Misaki is around. He gets too flustered-- and this only gets proved when instead of leaping up eagerly, Terushima flushes a very deep shade of pink, already shaking his head. Misaki appears surprised.

 

“Eh? I thought you'd be pretty okay with that dare,” she says. 

 

“I--” He sighs, burying his face in her shoulder. “I can't when you're here,” he mumbles. “It feels. Weird.”

 

She raises her eyebrows, but he's quick to assure, “Not because I don't trust you!!! Just! It seems. Crude. And I love you too much to be able to keep a straight face? So.”

 

It’s Misaki’s turn to flare up, but to her credit, her voice is even when she tells him, “Okay. I'll go in the other room then. You can come get me when it's done.”

 

Teru kisses her cheek, and Kenjirou thinks it's meant to be a thank you, because she gets up and moves to the guest room at a nod and smile from Futakuchi.

 

“You are literally so fucking salty, Kenjirou,” Semi mutters, especially when he sees Kenjirou pull up his conversation with Misaki and text her to put her phone on silent so he can call her when the dare starts.

 

“Shut up.”

 

They decide on 2 minutes for a time limit, and Terushima decides Yahaba should be his victim. Conveniently, Yahaba’s on Kenjirou’s other side, so before Terushima crosses the circle to get in close, Kenjirou dials Misaki and puts the phone on speaker before setting it down on his lap, innocuous enough that Terushima takes no notice of it.

 

And then Terushima settles in Yahaba’s lap, and just  _ goes _ . He's smirking, voice curling around the dirtiest words like velvet, and Yahaba quickly regrets agreeing to this, apparently, since he’s so flustered-- Kenjirou’s enjoying this  _ thoroughly. _

 

When the time is up, Kenjirou waits until Terushima’s turned his back to hang up; he keeps his face carefully arranged as Terushima goes to get his girlfriend from the guest room, pretends to be completely clueless about how flushed she is.

 

“Kamasaki,” Terushima starts, tugging Misaki into his lap-- she squeaks, but when he frowns, confused, she just shakes her head and smiles a little. He continues, “Truth or dare?”

 

“Me?” Kamasaki sighs. “Truth, I guess.”

 

Kamasaki gets asked who he thinks the best kisser in the circle is, and he says it's either Terushima himself or Yahaba. Futakuchi gets upset, of course, but Kamasaki shrugs and says he assumed partners were automatically ruled out as an option. And anyway, Futakuchi was a messy kisser.

 

After him, Yahaba goes, then Ennoshita-- Kenjirou tries his best to scrub his memories of the dares they do. Otherwise he doesn't think he'll ever be able to consume strawberry jam again for the rest of his life. A shame. Kenjirou rather likes strawberry jam. Also he definitely didn't need to know how freakily twisty Ennoshita was. Kenjirou’s pretty sure he'll have nightmares.

 

And finally it's Akaashi’s turn. He chooses truth, thankfully. Kenjirou doesn't want to sit through any more weird dares.

 

“So,” Futakuchi begins. “Kinkiest thing you want with Ennoshita.”

 

“ _ Futakuchi _ !” The yell comes from both Ennoshita and Kamasaki. Kenjirou snickers as Futakuchi gets thumped upside the head-- serves him right.

 

Akaashi though… is strangely quiet. Kenjirou turns his attention to the recipient of the truth, and finds him a very interesting shade of red, biting down on his fist nervously. On meeting Kenjirou’s eyes, he pulls it away, picking at his fingers with his other hand instead. “I… well…”

 

Futakuchi finally break away from his hissed argument with Kamasaki to say, “Okay, fine, that was a little mean. What costume would you want to see him in, then. That's a little easier right?”

 

Kamasaki narrows his eyes. “That’s not much better!”

 

“It’s…” Akaashi swallows. “It’s okay, Kamasaki-san. Maybe… ah. A nurse…? Costume…?”

 

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

 

Chikara’s face is bright red. He didn’t know that. “Really?”

 

Akaashi looks away. “Yeah,” he admits. “I think you’d look really nice.”

 

“You don’t use nice to describe sexy stuff!” Yahaba insists.

 

“Shut up,” Akaashi snaps, face turning as red as Chikara thinks his is. “Yes you can.”

 

Yahaba rolls his eyes. “You’re just embarrassed.”

 

“I will throw a pillow at you,” Akaashi warns. Chikara chuckles, trying to get his mind off Akaashi’s secret kink wish. How come he didn’t say anything before tonight?

 

“You will not-” Yahaba is cut off by a pillow to the face. “Akaashi!”

 

“I warned you,” Akaashi shrugs. “It’s Misaki-san’s turn now.”

 

Semi volunteers to ask Misaki her turn. She chooses truth and because Semi is secretly chaotic at times, he asks the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened in the bedroom.

 

“That’s easy,” Misaki says. “The time when-” she turns pink slightly. “I was riding Yuuji, and he was really enjoying it. So much that he called me Daddy.”

 

Chikara is glad the attention is off him and Akaashi, because this is golden. “Terushima, you did what?”

 

Half of the group automatically collapses in laughter. The other half try to hide their laughter.

 

Terushima covers his face in Misaki’s hair. “Babe, why did you say that?”

 

“Because it’s the most embarrassing,” Misaki claims. “It was also the first that came to mind.”

 

“You didn’t have to say that one!” Terushima complains.

 

Misaki kisses his cheek. “Sorry, Yuuji.”

 

“It’s okay,” Terushima assures her, still bright red. “In hindsight, that was a little funny, I guess.”

 

Shirabu is still laughing. “I’m never going to let you forget that,” he promises Terushima.

Now that everyone had a turn, the circle restarts.

 

“Futakuchi,” Yahaba calls, smirking. Chikara instantly knows he has something specific in mind, and it won’t be safe for work.  “Truth or dare?”

 

“Dare,” Futakuchi answers.

 

“I dare you to act in your dom persona for the rest of the game.”

 

Futakuchi smirks. “Really now?” He leans back and scans the circle, eyes settling on Akaashi then Chikara.  _ Oh no. _

 

Futakuchi excuses himself, heading towards his bedroom. Kamasaki shakes his head. “He’s up to something.” Futakuchi is seen briefly for a second, holding a clothing bag, then disappears into the bathroom. A few seconds later he exits and walks across the room. He stands in front of Chikara, smirking.

 

He blinks, tilting his neck up. “Hello.”

 

“Hello Ennoshita.” Futakuchi offers a hand. “I checked and I have the perfect outfit for you to wear.”

 

“What?” he asks, not because he didn’t hear Futakuchi, but because he doesn’t quite believe his words. _ Is this what I think it is? _

 

The smirk widens. “A nurse outfit just for you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“That’s what I said,” Futakuchi responds. “Get up and put it on.”

 

“It’s not my turn, though,” Chikara reminds him. 

 

Futakuchi bends down to his ear. “I don’t believe that’s what I said, now is it?” He stands back up. “Put it on.” He raises an eyebrow. “Now.”

 

Chikara flushes deep red. “O-okay.”

 

Futakuchi turns to Akaashi. “And you better let him know your appreciation when he comes back out,” he orders.

 

He blushes even harder. Akaashi nods, dumbstruck. “Of course.”

 

Futakuchi smiles. “Good.” He grabs Chikara’s arm. “Come along. The rest of you, go ahead and don’t wait for us.” He leads him to the bathroom, Chikara following idly. “The costume is in here.” He glances over his shoulder. “Are you wearing lingerie?”

 

“Right now?” After Futakuchi gives him a hard look, Chikara mutters, “Yes.” 

 

“Good, because it’ll show through the dress and look hot.” Futakuchi opens the bathroom and walks over to the mirror, where a clothing bag hangs. “Here it is,” he gestures. He takes the bag and hands it to him.

 

“You look far too smug about this,” Chikara mutters, taking the bag. “What if Keiji doesn’t like it?”

 

Futakuchi pauses. “He’s going to love it because you’re doing it for him and you’re going to look hot. The costume is half of it. The other half is confidence, so strip and put this one, strut out there and be aware you look sexy as hell. Got it?”

 

“How can you be encouraging yet demanding at the same time?” Chikara questions.

 

“All in a dom’s work,” Futakuchi replies. “Now get dressed.” He leaves the bathroom. “Don’t take long!”

 

Chikara sighs and quickly undresses. He’s used to wearing costumes, he has a couple at home he and Akaashi love to use, but he’s never worn a sexy nurse costume. Something about it is different. It’s tighter than his usual costumes, which normally have puffed up skirts not even covering the tops of his stockings. 

 

Sometimes Chikara likes to wear lingerie under his clothes even if there aren’t any plans for sex later that day (the sex usually happens, even without prior planning). Even if he’s wearing lace underwear, he doesn’t always wear stockings or a garter belt. He’s glad he’s wearing stockings, white stockings to be precise; it’ll look nice with the nurse dress.

 

Futakuchi is a size bigger than him but the dress still fits well over his figure. He studies himself in the mirror, about to clip in the nurse cap, when a knock sounds on the door. “Open up.”

 

“I’m not done yet,” Chikara calls.   
  


“I don’t care, open up.”

 

Dom persona still going strong, he notes.

 

Sighing, he opens the door. Futakuchi leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “Lift up your skirt.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I won’t ask twice.” He softens his expression and voice slightly, making sure he’s not uncomfortable. “Trust me.”

 

Chikara, still not sure what revealing his underwear would do, lifts up his skirt to show his dark mauve underwear and garter belt.

 

Futakuchi examines the underwear and nods. He disappears again, not bothering to shut the door. Chikara keeps it open because he assumes he’ll be back. He returns to adjusting his costume, clipping in the nurse cap and making sure the costume fits properly (even though there’s nothing “proper” about this).

 

A moment later, Futakuchi returns holding a pair of heels. “It matches your underwear perfectly.”

 

“Oh,” Chikara says. “Thank you.” He takes the heels, putting them on. They’re around the height he’s used to.

 

“Are you done?” Futakuchi asks. “It’s rude to keep company waiting, especially Akaashi.”

 

Chikara nods, blushing once more. He hates how easily he can blush, especially during times like these. 

 

“You look really hot,” Futakuchi tells him. “And I’m not just saying that. So straighten your back- hard for anyone here to straighten anything actually- stand up tall, keep telling yourself that you’re sexy as fuck, bump out your hip and go seduce your boyfriend. Got it? Confidence is half of it.”

 

“Confidence is half of it,” Chikara mutters to himself. He nods. “Okay, I’m ready.”

 

“Stay here until I call you.” Futakuchi shoots him a grin and Chikara finds himself smiling back.

 

Futakuchi walks back into the living room. He whistles loudly. “Akaashi,” he drawls. “You wanted a nurse didn’t you?”

 

Chikara isn’t in the room yet but he practically hears Akaashi freeze. “Futakuchi, what did you do?”

 

“Watch your manners,” Futakuchi teases. “That’s no way to treat me after I was a good friend. I got you a nurse, just like you wanted. Isn’t he gorgeous? Nuuuuurse!”

 

And that’s his call. Still a tad nervous, Chikara carefully walks out of the bathroom, making sure he doesn’t trip while wearing his heels. He can tell they did in fact already do a few turns because Kamasaki is shirtless, meaning he passed a turn.

 

Everyone stares at him, various shades of red, but he’s only focused on one person, the only one that matters.

 

Akaashi is the brightest he’s ever seen him- can a person be that red?

 

“Flirt,” Futakuchi mutters with a fake cough.

 

“Hi doctor,” Chikara softly says. He bends down and sits with his legs curled to the side. Out of the corner of his eyes he spots Futakuchi nodding encouragingly. “I heard you needed a nurse?”

 

Akaashi looks like he’s about to pass out. “H-hi Chikara.”

 

“I believe it’s Nurse Chikara, Doctor Keiji,” he responds, tracing his fingertips lightly on Akaashi’s thigh; he gapes at him, wide eyes still taking in Chikara and his attire.

 

Oh no. He doesn’t like it. Why did he put this on? What if Akaashi was only joking, faking like he was blushing and didn’t really want him dressed up? This was a terrible idea.

 

Before Chikara stands up and races off to the bathroom to change, Akaashi recognises his nervousness. He reaches over and takes Chikara’s hands in his own.

 

“You’re stunning,” he quietly says, lifting their linked hands to his lips. “I’m sorry, it just took me by surprise.”

 

Chikara lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I was afraid you didn’t like it,” he says, relieved.

 

“I love it,” Akaashi honestly says, taking time to kiss each of Chikara’s fingers, lingering on his ring finger, more so his promise ring. Ever since they first started dating, Akaashi did this act to calm him down. And ever since he gave Chikara his promise ring, a promise for future vows, he always paid the most attention to that finger. “Really. You look amazing… Nurse Chikara.” He pulls Chikara into his lap.

 

Chikara squeaks out of surprise, but settles against Akaashi’s chest. “Your underwear looks nice as well,” Akaashi murmurs in his ear. He then speaks louder for everyone else to hear. “Now whose turn is it?”

 

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

 

Kentarou sighs, watching them all fuck around. Why is he still hanging out with them again?

 

Right. Somehow, these were all his friends. Somehow.

 

“I don't know,” he tells Akaashi. “Pick someone.”

 

He chooses Kamasaki, in the end, and Terushima immediately perks up when Kamasaki chooses dare, cutting off whatever nonsense he’d been rambling about to Misaki; Kentarou has to admit, the pair of them are a cute couple, but the gleam in Terushima’s eyes seems…

 

Not at all okay.

 

He dreads whatever Kamasaki will have to face next-- thank gods Kentarou was excused from playing with them.

 

And then Terushima proves him right for worrying. “Move a coin around the inside of the toilet! With only your tongue!”

 

“What the  _ fuck _ , Terushima?” Kamasaki demands. “Fuck no. Fuck  _ no _ , where did you even come up with that?”

 

Misaki sighs. “I wish I didn't know the answer to that, but Bobata dared him to do it once during training camp. He did it.”

 

The group erupts into various exclamations of disgust, their faces twisting into sneers and frowns and whatever else. Kentarou himself is trying not to gag at the thought. Gods.

 

Why was he friends with such  _ weirdos _ ?

 

Kamasaki’s pants come off with little fanfare-- he folds them and sets them under the coffee table, glares at his boyfriend when Futakuchi seems to deem this the right time to slap his ass. They start to bicker among themselves, the others starting to discuss…

 

The cleanliness of toilets? Kentarou hears Terushima insisting hands are dirtier than the inside of toilet bowls. No one believes him, unsurprisingly. Terushima starts getting louder, insisting he’ll go pull up some scientific papers, and this needs to stop before things get too wildly off-track, probably.

 

Kentarou calls, “Move on already, will you? There's a game going on.”

 

“Oh,” says Futakuchi, like it isn't all his fault things got derailed. “That's true.”

 

“Hm.” Kamasaki glances around the circle, trying to decide whose turn will be next. “Yahaba?”

 

“Truth.”

 

Kentarou absently wonders what question they’ll ask. Will Kentarou know the answer? Probably. If Futakuchi keeps up with the weirdly sexual questions, it might be something kink-related. Maybe they’ll finally find out Yahaba’s got a voyeuristic streak-- that'll be entertaining.

 

Or maybe they'll ask something serious? Misaki looks ready to give them all a break by asking one of her ‘deep shit’ questions, as Kentarou’s mentally dubbed them. Maybe they'll learn that Yahaba’s still scared of the dark sometimes, when he's alone, or that he really wants to see Paris one day.

 

It turns out his guess about Misaki is correct. The issue is, she asks Yahaba, “Would you ever get back together with Kyoutani?”

 

It’s like the entire room drops several degrees in temperature, and Kentarou’s skin prickles with goosebumps as the group’s collective gaze settles on him, frozen in the act of taking a sip of his soda. The only pair of eyes not fixed on Kentarou is… Yahaba’s. Slowly, he sets the cup down.

 

It feels like a fraction of a second passes, a snap, a spark, and it's it'sgone. It feels like an eternity, ticking too slow, stretching too long. Yahaba opens his mouth.

 

“Yes.”

 

Kentarou expects the room to explode into chaos again, for rapidfire questions and yelps and protests and encouragements alike. (Somewhere, Kentarou fears that someone will say Yahaba shouldn't; he knows no one will though. They're all friends here. Himself included.)

 

Instead, there is only silence again, expectant and fragile and-- 

 

_ Dammit _ , Kentarou really shouldn't have let himself be dragged into this mess of a get-together.

 

This isn't a possibility he had been prepared to face. That he’d been hoping for it is another matter entirely-- he isn't  _ ready _ .

 

“So,” Kentarou begins. Yahaba flinches at his voice, looks ready to defend himself from any accusations, or maybe pull an Oikawa on him and beam and pretend everything is alright when it is very fucking clearly  _ not _ . Before he can do whatever dumbass thing he means to, Kentarou continues, “Why haven't you?”

 

Yahaba’s head jerks up. “I didn't…”

 

Kentarou raises an eyebrow. “What, Shigeru? Suddenly you know how to shut up?”

 

That earns him a scowl, but at least Yahaba isn't nervous anymore-- a nervous Yahaba isn't something Kentarou’s ever been good at handling; he’s certainly improved since first year, but he still struggles, especially when Yahaba’s nervous because of  _ him _ . Yahaba seems to realize it too, because the curl of his mouth softens. “I just…” he sighs. “You seemed happier.”

 

Terushima’s voice vaguely registers in Kentarou’s ears, a soft mumbled, “Oh,” before he gets shushed by someone else.

 

But mostly Kentarou’s just curious how someone so perfect… can be so  _ stupid _ . “Are you kidding me?” he snarls at the counter. 

 

Yahaba twitches again, like he means to run away. Instead he squares up, shoulders drawing taut and straight, chin high. “What, then? Are you gonna tell me--”

 

“That it's dumb? It is!” Kentarou’s moving, taking long strides until he stands over Yahaba. “Because I wasn't happier because we were fucking broken up, Shigeru!” He snags Yahaba’s shirt in his hands, tugs him close. The jury's still out on whether Kentarou wants to punch or kiss him. “I was  _ happier _ ,” he goes on, spitting out the word like it burns-- it feels like it does.

 

Happier?  _ Happier _ ? Kentarou was not fucking happier because he and Shigeru hadn't worked out. Gods know Kentarou still  _ wants  _ Shigeru. Gods know Kentarou still knows him best, doesn't think he could ever know anyone better, or have anyone slip their way around his walls as easily as Shigeru did. 

 

Gods know no one puts him in his place and holds him up higher the way Shigeru does.

 

“I was fucking  _ happier  _ because you stopped picking damn shitty fights over nothing! I was happier because  _ I  _ stopped doing that! We worked out our differences and-- fuck  _ you _ .” Kentarou releases Yahaba, can't stand looking in his wide (beautiful) eyes any longer. He steps away. “I thought  _ you _ didn't want to get back together. You were the one who suggested we see other people last year! What the  _ fuck _ .”

 

Yahaba sputters. “Yeah! I didn't actually date though! You did!”

 

“I--” Kentarou cuts off with a sigh. “Forget it. I’m not yelling at you about this. This is just another pointless argument.” He runs a hand over his hair, whirls away and starts to return to his perch on a stool in the kitchen, safe from the shenanigans--

 

He freezes. Wait. This could work for him. “Ask me truth or dare, Shigeru,” he says, lowly.

 

“What? I thought you weren't playing.”

 

“ _ Ask me _ .”

 

“Um. Okay Ken. Which one?”

 

“Truth,” Kentarou answers, softly. “Now ask me if I’d do it.”

 

He doesn't need to look to know Yahaba’s blinking as if he doesn't know exactly what Kentarou means.

 

“Ask me if I’d get back with you, Shigeru,” he continues, not waiting for Yahaba to prompt him. He hears Yahaba’s sharp intake of breath, the one he makes when he's guessed right but he's surprised anyway. 

 

Yahaba comes around to stand in front of Kentarou and rests a hand against the back of Kentarou’s neck. Kentarou lifts his head to hold eye contact. “Will you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The kiss that follows is fiercer that any kiss Kentarou’s ever had, even counting the ones with Yahaba. It's branding and burning and loving, and at the same time, it's soft and gentle and apologetic, even. Kentarou thinks he might let it go on forever.

 

But of course nothing good lasts. “Are you done yet?” Futakuchi drawls. “It’s been, like, ten minutes.”

 

“No it hasn't,” growls Kamasaki, elbowing his partner. “You bastard, Kenji, you couldn't have let them be?”

 

“I did!”

 

Kentarou flushes red, and he separates (reluctantly) from Yahaba. He goes to head back to the kitchen.

 

“Nooooope!” Futakuchi yells.

 

“ _ What _ ,” Kentarou snaps, no heat in his voice.

 

“You joined the game. You keep playing. Get over here, Puppy-kun.”

 

“Fuck you, don't call me that,” he grumbles.

 

But he sits down next to Yahaba all the same.

 

And if their fingers lace together between them, familiar and so startlingly missed--

 

Well, no one comments on it.

 

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

 

Hana can’t say she’s surprised by what’s happened so far in the game. Horniness mixed with fluff and strangeness? Nothing unusual, although she didn’t expect Yahaba and Kyoutani to get back together that evening (about time). Or expect to hear Terushima’s dirty talk. That was…. Hana drinks her water to distract herself from turning bright red.

 

“Kyoutani, you can ask someone,” she encourages.

 

“Huh? Okay.” Settled beside his former ex, now again boyfriend, Kyoutani glances around the circle. “Shirabu, truth or dare?”

 

“Dare,” Shirabu answers. “I’m not scared of Kyoutani’s dares.” Hana agrees with him. Kyoutani is one of the reasonable people in the group, not to mention he’s like a puppy. There’s a reason Futakuchi calls him ‘Puppy-kun.’

 

“Be scared of mine because I’m taking over,” Yahaba says, leaning across Kyoutani to smirk at Shirabu. “I dare you to call Semi ‘daddy’ until it’s his turn.”

 

“How did you know about that?” Semi hisses, turning a nice shade of maroon. Hana shakes her head. Most things turn towards the bedroom side during games with this group. Since she’s not usually a target, it’s kind of amusing to watch. Not that she’d ever admit that out loud.

 

“Know what?” Futakuchi asks, grinning widely. He’s enjoying this too much.

 

Just like how Shirabu looks far too pleased. “Alright.” He turns to Semi. “Hey Daddy, can you get me another plate of food?”

 

“I fucking hate you all so much,” Semi mutters, standing up. “Stop looking so smug, Kenjirou.”

 

Shirabu blinks. “Sorry Daddy,” he says, voice sweet like sugar.

 

Semi chokes and rushes to the kitchen. “You fucking  _ brat _ .”

 

Shirabu smiles at Yahaba. “Thank you for that.”

 

“I didn’t know he actually had a daddy kink,” Yahaba says, wide-eyed. “That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I’ll take it.”

 

“ _ Brat! _ ” is loudly heard once more, along with a stool falling to the ground. “Shit.” Semi bends down to pick up the chair, mumbling curses under his breath. Hana stifles her laughter by biting her lips, although the rest of the group doesn’t bother to hide their amusement.

 

“Hey, that Yasushi’s line,” Futakuchi calls, leaning against Kamasaki’s side. “Good thing you’re still in shape, babe. You’re a nice pillow.” Kamasaki glares. 

 

“Daddy, be careful!” Shirabu loudly says. “You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

 

After a moment, a still bright red Semi exits the kitchen with a plate of food. “Here you go.” He doesn’t spare Shirabu a glimpse as he hands it over.

 

“Daddy, did I do something wrong?” Shirabu asks.

 

“No,” Semi manages to say, still avoiding his boyfriend’s gaze. “Why do you ask?”

 

“You’re not looking at me, Daddy.”

 

If Semi turns any redder, he could be a cherry. Hana (at least tries to) save him from further embarrassment. “Next turn!”

 

“Misaki, truth or dare?” Ennoshita says from across the room. Like her, he’s settled in his partner’s lap quite happily.

 

“Dare,” Hana answers. Like Shirabu’s reasoning for Kyoutani, she thinks Ennoshita wouldn’t give her a really wild dare. At least for her.

 

“I dare you to dance to the first song that comes on Terushima’s phone,” he declares.

 

Alright. That should be simple enough.

 

“Give me your phone and I’ll put connect it to the speaker,” Kamasaki says to Terushima. He nods and after Hana gets up from his lap, Terushima tosses the phone. Kamasaki easily catches it and sets up the speakers.

 

Hana hopes it’s one of those cheesy lovesongs they love to sing along to in the car, or one of the goofy “meme” songs that always lights up a room. Instead, OCAD’s  _ Muse  _ trickles out of the speakers.  _ Out of  _ all  _ the songs on Yuuji’s phone, it had to be  _ that  _ one?! _

 

Terushima sheepishly grins. “Oh well.”

 

Hana covers her face. “Yuuji!”

 

“I didn’t have any control over it! It was on shuffle!” Terushima defends.

 

“A dare’s a dare,” Akaashi says. “I’m sure you’ll dance wonderfully, Misaki-san.”

 

“I can’t tell if you’re sarcastic or not,” Hana says.

 

“I get that a lot,” Akaashi replies.

 

Hana tries her best to make her dance as un-sexy as possible. It’s hard when it’s a song oozing with sexuality. She also avoids Terushima’s gaze the whole time.

 

“You may as well be doing the Charleston,” Futakuchi remarks. “That’s not sexy at all.”

 

“It’s cute,” Yahaba argues. “And the dare wasn’t a sexy dance. It’s very Misaki.”

 

“Thank you!” Hana sighs, relief flowing through her body once the song finishes. Kamasaki gets up to turn off the phone, but doesn’t reach it in time before the next song begins. Out comes Never Gonna Give You Up and Hana huffs. “Why couldn’t that have been the song?!”

 

“You were awesome,” Terushima insists, taking Hana’s hand and pulling her back in his lap. “You were really cute, twirling and doing jazz squares.”

 

“I tried to make it totally not sexy,” Hana admits. “I’m not giving a lap dance in front of everyone.”

 

Terushima blushes at the idea while Shirabu raises his eyebrows. “Is that a dig at anyone in particular?”

 

“No, just saying that I’d never be able to do that without turning into a mess,” Hana responds. The idea makes her internally twitch. That’d be so embarrassing, how did Shirabu even do that?  _ And  _ get a boyfriend out of it.

 

Kamasaki hands Terushima his phone. “Cute lockscreen.”

 

“Thanks!” he grins. “It’s one of my favorite photos.” Hana curiously looks at her boyfriend. He tends to switch out his lockscreens quickly. “What is it this time?”

 

“You naturally!” Terushima shows his lockscreen to Hana. It’s a photo of her laughing, with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “When did you get that?”

 

“At the team reunion last week!” Terushima pipes. “You were so happy.”

 

Hana’s heart belts. She really missed her team. It feels only days ago that she retired from being their manager, graduating and thinking she’d lose touch, maybe only be Facebook friends with her kouhai. She had nothing to worry about. They were the ones who reached out, always made sure they stayed in touch and she cried tears of joy when she found out Terushima and a few others were even attending the same college as her. She doesn’t know what would happen if she lost her boys. And along the way, she found even more, Hana realizes. This crazy bunch of guys are wild, but they’re sure a lot of fun.

 

She kisses Terushima’s cheek. “You were really happy, too.”

 

“Too much sap for my taste,” Futakuchi complains. “Let’s get this going again.” He turns towards Kamasaki. “Truth or dare, babe?”

 

Much like Futakuchi, Kamasaki isn’t one to turn down a challenge. “Dare.”

 

That’s the answer Futakuchi was looking for. “I dare you to wear a skirt.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me.” Futakuchi hops up. “I know just the skirt.”

 

“I’m not wearing a skirt!” Kamasaki insists. “You wear the skirts, not me.”   
  


“Oh yeah?” Futakuchi raises his eyebrows. “What piece of clothing do you want to take off?” He snaps his fingers as though having a realization. “Wait- you can’t.” He clicks his tongue. “Then I guess you’re wearing the skirt.” He shrugs. “How the game works.”

 

Kamasaki scowls. “I hate you.”

 

“Love you too.” Futakuchi heads into their bedroom, quickly emerging with a pleated skirt. “Put it on, Yasushi~”

 

“I look dumb,” Kamasaki complains, slipping into the skirt with a roll of his eyes. He zips it up and does a spin. “Happy?”

  
“You look hot,” Futakuchi corrects. He places his hands on Kamasaki’s hips, pulling him close. “And I’m very happy.” He kisses his bare shoulder. “I should buy you skirts.”

 

“They look better on you,” Kamasaki claims.

 

“I disagree.”

 

“Why is everyone so horny?” Kyoutani grumbles. Yahaba chuckles and squeezes his hand. “That’s how it is with this group.”

 

“Shit!” Ennoshita curses, holding out his finger.

 

“What’s wrong?” Akaashi worriedly asks. He takes Ennoshita’s hand, examining the bleeding cut on his finger. “Did you cut yourself?”

 

“Yeah,” Ennoshita replies. “I picked up my soda can and cut myself on the rim.”

 

“There are Band-aids in the kitchen,” Kamasaki says, pulling away from Futakuchi. “Want me to get you some?”

 

“I can get it,” Ennoshita says, using Akaashi’s shoulder to prop himself. “I’ll be right back.” He sways his hips as he heads to the kitchen and Hana catches Akaashi’s face turning pink.

 

“Semi, truth or dare?” Yahaba asks.

 

Kyoutani grunts. “You already asked a question.”

 

“No I didn’t!”

 

“You took my turn,” Kyoutani reminds him.

 

“It was a suggestion.”

 

“You literally took my turn, Shigeru.”

 

“But I have a good one!” he whines. Kyoutani waves a hand. “Go ahead.”

  
“Aren’t you popular tonight, Daddy?” Shirabu divulged. Semi’s eye twitches.

 

Yahaba claps his hands to reclaim the group’s attention. “Semi, truth or dare?” he repeats.

 

“This is a mistake, but dare,” Semi sighs, rubbing his forehead. 

 

“I dare you to order me hot wings!” he exclaims.

 

Kyoutani shoots him a look of disbelief. “There’s a whole table of food right in the kitchen.”

 

“And no hot wings,” Yahaba responds. “I want hot wings and free hot wings are even better.”

 

Semi already has out his phone, muttering about how these parties never end well for him. As he orders, Ennoshita leans against the kitchen doorway in a seductive pose. “Doctor Keiji?” 

 

Akaashi blinks. “Uh, yes?” he inquires. “Do you need something?”

 

Hana shares a look with Terushima, both quietly chuckling. Usually Ennoshita is one of the more chill people, but it’s always funny to see her friends rile up their partners.

 

“I need you,” Ennoshita purrs, eyes dark. He adjusts his pose, jutting out his hip even more. In that light, his lingerie is even more noticable. (It’s a pretty color, Hana wonders where he bought it).

 

Akaashi swallows as the whole group once again doesn’t bother hiding their laughter. “Yes?” he asks, getting up from his seat. “You need me?”

 

Ennoshita nods. “Yes doctor, I need you. I want you desperately.” He holds out his finger. “I need help putting on my Band-aid.” He tilts his head. “I hope that’s what you were thinking.”

 

Akaashi flushes, clearing his throat as an attempt to distract from his bright face. “Of course, yes” He takes the wrapper and unpeels it. “Hold out your finger… nurse.”

 

“Wait! I dropped the bacterial wipe in the kitchen.” Ennoshita turns around, bending down to pick up the wipe package he certainly dropped on “accident,” all the while giving Akaashi a clear view of his ass. Hana giggles, leaning into Terushima’s chest. It’s quite obvious that wasn’t any accident.

 

Akaashi freezes, even when Ennoshita turns back around and stands up. “Here it is,” he sweetly says, batting his eyes as he hands him the wipe. “Thank you for your help, doctor~”

 

“N-no problem,” Akaashi stutters, quickly getting to work and cleaning Ennoshita’s cut. “There we go.”

 

Ennoshita, wearing his borrowed heels, is taller than Akaashi, so rather than stand on his tip toes, he does the classic ‘foot in the air’ pose as he kisses his cheek. “Thank you doctor!”

 

Akaashi coughs. “You’re welcome.” He takes Ennoshita’s hand and leads him back to the circle. “Let’s continue,” he says, clearly ready to take the attention off him and his bright red face.

 

“Let’s,” Hana agrees.

 

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

 

Semi comes back a few minutes later with the pronouncement that the wings would arrive soon. Kenjirou snickers at him-- serves him right for choosing dare again.

 

The game goes on-- Kyoutani gets dared to lift Yahaba up one-handed (and does, everyone is impressed,  _ especially  _ Yahaba), Terushima gets dared to try a handstand (and lasts about 4 seconds before falling over with a yelp, heh, loser)...

 

And then Yahaba gets asked when he finds Kyoutani most beautiful-- and god, it's so fucking  _ sappy. _ Kenjirou doesn't understand in the slightest (that's a lie, he understands it perfectly) how anyone could answer that question with a straight face, without any hesitation.

 

He wonders what he would say, if he were asked that about Semi.

 

Futakuchi interrupts before Yahaba can start, saying something teasing about Kyoutani being hot and cute and probably handsome too, but beautiful? Was that possible?

 

Yahaba snaps, “Shut your stupid mouth,” and reaches over across the circle to push Futakuchi’s jaw shut.

 

Futakuchi jerks his head back, scowling. “ _ Don't  _ touch me,” he snarls, in something resembling his dom persona-- honestly, Kenjirou had forgotten about that dare.

 

Yahaba appears unimpressed, only quirking an eyebrow to which Futakuchi shrugs. “Sorry, continue,” he says, with a wave of his hand. Yahaba rolls his eyes.

 

Kenjirou pretends to be uninterested in the answer, pulling out his phone to scroll through twitter-- he’s not absorbing anything though, so he hears it perfectly when Yahaba says, “I think he's most beautiful when he smiles. It doesn't matter when-- whether it's that wild grin he gets when we play, or that soft curl of his mouth when we watch a movie he likes, or that absolute sunbeam that he wears when he's playing with his dog. I like seeing him happy.”

 

Semi nudges him gently. “I know you're listening, Kenjirou,” he murmurs.

 

“So what?” What's wrong with that? The only reason Kenjirou is pretending not to is because that's who he is. Semi waits, because he knows Kenjirou has more to say-- he always  _ knows _ , gods, having a boyfriend was so troublesome-- and finally: “That’s a good answer, I think. I like your smile too.”

 

Semi blinks, blushes just a bit. “I like yours too. Even your bratty one.”

 

“Shut up,” Kenjirou laughs. Semi… Kenjirou’s lucky to have him. He somehow always puts up with Kenjirou’s salt, never makes him feel like he  _ needs  _ to change, but makes him want to be better anyway. Ugh, not that Kenjirou will tell him that anytime soon.

 

“Wow,” Futakuchi says, and Kenjirou’s face immediately scrunches up in disgust. “Even Shirabu’s smiling.”

 

Kenjirou clicks his tongue. “What do you want.”

 

“I think it's getting too soft,” Futakuchi declares. “So, Semi, truth or dare?”

  
  



End file.
